


the ballad of samuel drake

by hogarth14



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Daddy Issues, Drinking, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Gen, Loneliness, Marijuana, Mommy Issues, Sibling Bonding, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogarth14/pseuds/hogarth14
Summary: Seventeen year old Samuel Morgan is trying to make things work after getting kicked out of the orphanage. He's haunted by his past and he's anxious about the future and he wishes he could just be a normal teenager. Somewhat a prequel to the flashback scenes.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. desperado

**Author's Note:**

> desperado  
> oh you aint gettin no younger  
> your pain and your hunger  
> they're driving you home  
> freedom, oh freedom  
> well, that's just some people talkin'  
> your prison is walkin' through this world all alone

**1988**

Samuel Morgan pulled his jacket around himself tighter, trying to fend off the cold as he walked home from work. It was a little past 10 PM, and he was tired from working back to back jobs almost everyday. He spent most of the day carrying boxes of books and working on other people’s motorcycles and bikes and he rubbed his shoulder that was slightly sore. 

_ Just a little more _ , he thought to himself, fantasising about the 500cc twin motorcycle he’s been saving up for. Maybe he could go on a road trip once it was warmer. Maybe he could drive down to New York and see the sights that his mother took him to see when he was a kid. God knows he needed a break.

Boston was cold and bleak, and he thought maybe a change of scene would do him good. But what about Nathan? He’d feel guilty about leaving him behind.

He rented a room at a townhouse owned by a Mrs. Martinez, who taught him Spanish every other day. It was cheaper than renting out a whole apartment, and at least he had his own room. Not to mention, the landlady was easy on the eyes.

“Finally,” Sam groaned as he kicked off his sneakers by the door and trudged towards his bed, where he haphazardly dropped his backpack.

He took out the money he made that day, setting aside cash for his bills and his savings. It was still a long way before he could have enough for that motorcycle.

It was another lonely night as Sam stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rain patter on the window. The old man was playing music again and Sam closed his eyes to listen.

_ Come let me love you / _

_ Let me give my life to you / _

_ Let me drown in your laughter / _

_ Let me die in your arms _

It was a song his mother, Cassandra, played a lot when he was a little boy. He could still remember the turntable in the living room, his mother sitting on the carpet, writing in her journal on the coffee table. She'd look at him and smile.

_ “Come here, Samuel.” _

She smelled like perfume and coffee and she’d let him sit on her lap while she told him stories from the Ancient Greeks to notorious pirates to the wild west. He’d rest his head on her chest and she’d run her hands through his hair and kiss the top of his head.

_ “You're destined for great things, honey.” _

A hot tear rolled down Sam’s cheek.  _ I miss you, Mom. I wish you were here. _

He knew his father sold all of her stuff, but where? Sam rolled over, anger filling his senses as he remembered his father, always angry and yelling, smashing things around whenever he had something to drink.

The day Cassandra died, Frank didn’t comfort Sam or Nathan, instead he quietly sat on the porch. Next thing they knew, he had them packing up and then they found themselves standing at the steps of Saint Francis’ Home for Boys.

_ No. _ Sam shook his head. He didn't want to think about that. Instead, he took out a book he stole from his job at the bookstore, imagining himself as Jim Hawkins until he fell asleep.

* * *

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Fred, Sam’s coworker and the current manager of the bookstore, beamed as Sam came in. The store was decked in autumn themed decorations and Sam couldn't help but notice the paper turkey plastered on the cash register.

“Shit, it's Thanksgiving already?” Sam’s eyebrows knitted. “But it's just Thursday…”

“Yeah, I've been asking you all week what your plans were,” Fred rolled his eyes. “And all you say is–”

“I don't know,” Sam shrugged as he made his way to the backroom to get changed. 

“Don't you have anyone to celebrate with?” Fred followed him, leaning against the doorframe.

“No. Thanksgiving’s a scam, anyway.”

“Jesus, you're a bummer,” Fred looked up in thought. “Say, why don't you spend it with my family tonight? My mom’s been bothering me about bringing a friend over.”

“I didn't know we were friends, Fred,” Sam grinned. “I appreciate it, but I have work.”

“At the garage? It's closed tonight, isn't it?”

_ Oh right. _ The owner, who Sam simply called Kevin, was away for the weekend.

“Will there be food?” He wearily asked.

“Are you kidding?” Fred laughed.

Fred lived in a nice house with a lawn and mailbox that looked like it was freshly painted in white. Sam nervously followed the tall redheaded boy. He didn't care for Thanksgiving, and he sure as hell didn't know how he was going to act around parents.

“Freddie, you're home!” Fred’s mother peeped from the kitchen as they entered the foyer. Her hair was neatly tied up in an intricate bun and she wore pearls and a surprisingly white apron over her gingham dress. She smiled when she saw Sam. “You brought a friend!”

“Yeah. Mom, this is Sam,” Fred cocked his head to Sam’s direction. “He's from work.”

“It's lovely to meet you, Sam,” she gave him a firm handshake. “Why don't you boys settle down in the living room. Dinner won't be long.”

Fred’s father had set up a chess set on the TV tray and he was glaring at it while Frankie Valli sang  _ Grease _ at the parade playing on the television. He was tall and skinny like Fred, but his hair was greying and thin.

“Are ya winning, Dad?” Fred said out loud, startling the older man.

“Mother Mary, you oughta know better than that, Alfred!” He chastised. “What if you scared me enough to get a heart attack? Who's gonna take care of this family?” 

“Alright, alright, chill. Hope you don't mind my friend, Sam, is having dinner with us tonight.”

Sam gave the man a small wave. “I was forced against my will, sir.”

“Bringing more smartasses into this house,” Fred’s dad muttered. “As if I don't have to deal with you and Jill already.”

“I heard that,” a tall girl who was older than Sam walked into the room. He figured she must be Jill. She almost looked like Molly Ringwald with her red hair softly hanging around her shoulders. “I didn't come down all the way from Toronto to hear shit from you, Daddy.”

Fred’s dad simply grunted. Sam smiled at Jill as she turned to look at them.

“Hey, how's it going?” He turned on his charm. “I'm Sam, by the way.”

Jill looked him up and down. “Alfred finally has a friend.”

“I'm glad you're still a bitch, Jill,” Fred retorted, to which Jill just laughed and she turned on her heels to go to the kitchen.

Sam stood there confused. Was this what it was like to have a normal family? Would this be what it could've been if Cassandra was alive? For a second, he let himself imagine sitting at their old dining table as a family. Him, Nathan, and Cassandra.

Frank would've been too drunk to let them enjoy the evening.

The rest of the night was standard, but it still felt so foreign to Sam. He couldn’t remember the last time he sat at a dining table to eat with other people like a family. Fred’s parents asked him a bunch of questions that he tried to answer as best he could.

“How old are you, Samuel?”  _ Seventeen. Eighteen in about five months. _

“Do you go to school?”  _ Not anymore. _

“Where are your parents?”  _ I’m an orphan. _

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fred’s mom gave him a sympathetic look. It wasn’t new to Sam, that was just how people reacted everytime he told them he didn’t have parents anymore. “Do you still stay at the orphanage?”

“I think he’s too old to be at an orphanage still, Mother,” Jill pointed out.

“Nah,” Sam shook his head. “I rent a place. I tried staying at the Y, but it’s not as quiet. Plus, I’m not a fan of the whole membership thing.”

“Well, we’re just glad you can join us,” she smiled sweetly, making him remember how his own mother would smile at him.

“Do you smoke pot?” Jill asked him after dinner. Fred had volunteered to help clean up and said Sam could hang out wherever he wanted. Not knowing what to do with himself, he ended up on the soft rug in Jill’s room, sharing a blunt with her.

He laughed along with her, listening to the pop song that loudly played on her cassette player. He didn’t know how long he was staring at the poster of A-ha on the wall, but the song felt like it kept going on and on.

“So that’s what a family feels like,” he laid back on the rug. “All that shit Paul at the orphanage said was true.”

“What do you think?” Jill passed him the blunt as she lounged on a beanie bag.

“Eh it’s not bad. I’m just glad no one waits up for me,” he chuckled.

“I think you’re lucky that way,” she shrugged. “I can’t stand being with my mom for too long. Say, what’s it like being in an orphanage?”

“Hell. Nuns were on your ass all day, but believe it or not I stole my first cigarette from one.” He was proud of that fact. 

“Can’t imagine how you and our sweet little angel Alfred get along at all.”

“Fred’s cool. It’s nice to hang out with a guy my age who isn’t a complete asshole.”

“God, right? Everyone was so unnecessarily mean when I was your age. Trust me, it’s so much better when you’re out of this city.”

“Oh, I plan on it. Feels like I’ve had beef with half the city already,” Sam giggled to himself, remembering how he got into a fistfight outside of a McDonald’s.

“You have to learn how to laugh it off, dude. It’s honestly not worth it sometimes.”

“Hm,” he nodded.

In that moment, he let himself relax. For the first time in almost a decade, he finally had a nice, home cooked meal that was prepared with motherly love. He didn’t have to act older than his age; he could just be a seventeen year old guy.

“There you are,” Fred burst into Jill’s room. “Jesus, it stinks in here.”

Sam just giggled to himself as he watched Fred make his way to open up all the windows. 

“Oh, perfect. Can you get me Oreos? I’m starving,” Jill beamed.

“No. I can’t believe you got Sam to smoke pot with you.”

“The little dude needed it,” she shrugged. 

“I’ve got to motor anyway,” Sam muttered as he started to get up.

“I’m not letting you walk home like that,” Fred frowned. “Fine, I’ll get the Oreos. Just stay there.”

“Okay,” Sam smiled.

“Oh, and some peanut butter too!” Jill called after Fred.

It was nice and warm when Sam woke up. He didn’t know how long he was asleep for, but he felt good. Big green eyes and a wet leathery nose greeted him as he opened his eyes to a fat cat staring at him and purring. 

He was in someone else’s room. The wall was wooden and slanted, like he was in an attic, and the walls were covered in posters of old rock bands and photographs. There was a computer on the desk. Sam didn't know anyone with a computer.

The smell that lingered in the air was heavenly. It smelled like mornings when Cassandra was in a good mood and she’d make pancakes and bacon and fresh squeezed orange juice. It was something Sam didn’t know he’d smell again.

“You’re up,” Fred was standing in front of the closet, holding up a plaid shirt. “I hope you’re hungry ‘cause Mom made so much food.”

Sam felt like he was going to burst from eating so many pancakes. To top it off, Fred’s mom gave him leftovers from dinner to take home.

* * *

“Sam!” Nathan beamed as he reached the roof Sam was waiting on. 

“How’s it going, little brother?” Sam gave him a light punch on the shoulder. 

“Horrible. We had another Bible retreat.”

Nathan plopped down on the cold roof, bundled up in a thick blanket that he’d brought with him. He sighed and picked at his sneakers.

“Well, I’ve got something that might cheer you up,” Sam slipped off his backpack and took out the Tupperware he got from Fred’s mom (he had to cross his heart and promise he'll give them back _or else_ ).

The younger boy’s eyes lit up as Sam laid out the food in front of him. 

“Turkey, casserole, mashed potatoes,  _ and _ pumpkin pie?” Nathan’s eyes were wide. “Where’d you steal all this from?”

“Hey,” Sam sat down next to him. “This was given to me by a very nice woman.”

Nathan gave him a look.

“She’s my friend’s mom,” he muttered. “Okay, I have a friend from work who asked me to have Thanksgiving dinner with his family. Big deal.”

“I think it’s a pretty big deal,” Nathan stuck his fork into the mashed potatoes. “I know how you feel about Thanksgiving, but I’ve never had a meal with a family in forever.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam nudged him. “We’re having a nice family dinner right now.”

“I guess,” Nathan shrugged. “We had mush yesterday.  _ Cold _ mush.”

A pang of guilt hit Sam as he thought of his little brother eating mush at the mess hall of the orphanage while he was having a nice warm meal. 

“I promise I’ll feed you food that’s better than mush once I get you outta here.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

The boys ate their meal, catching up with each other and what they missed out in the last three weeks. It seemed like every time Sam went to visit Nathan, he always seemed to grow taller. Sam felt like he was growing too, just barely passing the five foot, ten inches mark. He hoped he'd still get a growth spurt and at least reach his father’s height of six foot.

Nathan sighed suddenly. “Sometimes I don't remember Mom.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I feel like I'm starting to forget how she was like, you know?”

“Well, she read a lot,” Sam started. “The living room was just full of books and journals and maps.”

“I remember she'd read to me before bed, but what else?”

“Hmm,” Sam looked up in thought. He could tell him about how Cassandra loved daisies and always had a fresh vase of them by her bedside or how she was so soft spoken but when she sang, she almost sounded like Karen Carpenter. He then looked at Nathan, who looked so much like Cassandra.

“She had big blue eyes like you,” he said. “Remember when she'd discuss history with us over dinner? Her eyes would get so wide when she was excited.”

“Yeah,” Nathan smiled. “She'd talk so fast too and we'd laugh a lot.”

“She always made history so fun and interesting, unlike those teachers in there,” Sam pointed at the orphanage behind him with his thumb and made a face.

“Oh, I remember that teddy bear you had! The one with the eyepatch!”

“Oh yeah!” Sam beamed. “Good ol’ Henry. Mom got it for me in London. She used to reenact pirates with him, remember?”

“I remember,” Nathan laughed. “She did the best pirate voices.”

“Yup. Those were some good ol’ times, huh?”

“Until Dad came home…” Nathan frowned. “He'd be so grumpy all the time.”

“Forget about that asshole. He was never around anyway.”

“Sometimes I wonder what it's like to have a dad. Paul never shuts up about how great it was to go on family trips.”

“Hey, now,” Sam poked him. “We're still a family.”

“I just miss Mom a lot,” Nathan hugged his knees, trying not to cry. “What I wouldn't do to have her with us again.”

“Me too, little brother.”

* * *

**1989**

_ What I wouldn't do to have her with us again. _ Sam couldn't get it out of his head. Cassandra had so many journals, where were they now?

It took him months, but he found who bought his mother’s stuff when Frank sold it at an estate sale. It was with someone named Evelyn who lived just across town. 

The manor looked menacing from outside the gate and for weeks he stood by after work, scouting for anyone who would come in or out of the manor. To his delight, no one did and he concluded that it was empty. 

To Sam, finding her journals filled with her notes and thoughts was a way to connect with her again. He just wanted a part of her again, and he knew Nathan felt the same way. He just needed to pick the perfect date to take Nathan away from the orphanage.

His mind was still wandering when Fred nudged him.

“What?” Sam blinked.

“Your girlfriend's here,” Fred nodded to the girl entering the bookstore.

Crystal made her way to the cashier where Sam was standing, slamming a ticket stub on the counter. She was pretty, but at that moment, anger settled over her delicate features.

“Here's your lousy ticket. Thanks for  _ not _ coming to the movie last night.”

“Crystal, I swear I was on my way but–”

“God, no more  _ buts _ , Samuel. I'm so sick and tired of  _ always _ waiting for you, wondering if you'll get to the venue in an hour or two or at all,” she ran her fingers through her long, dark hair in frustration. 

Sam didn’t know what to say at first and Crystal impatiently stood in front of him, tapping the acrylics on her nails on the counter. 

“Well?”

“I'm sorry.”

“You don't get to say sorry. You've done this enough that we're like a broken record at this point.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Crystal,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“ _ Anything _ , Samuel.”

Anything? He racked his brain for anything to say. He couldn’t apologise, he couldn’t make up a reason anymore. In truth, he totally forgot about their date and had fallen dead asleep after work. Anything, anything. What the hell was anything?

“Did you enjoy the movie?” He said quickly, instantly regretting it.

“Enjoy this.” She replied to him with a cold cherry slushie to the face.

Rotten luck. That's what it was. Sam had rotten luck with love the way his parents did. It was the kind of generational curse Jill mentioned when they hung out again when she visited for Christmas last year.

“I'm horrible with money. I can't seem to keep any, just like my dad,” Jill had said. “I think that's what they meant by generational curse.”

Sam had thought about it. At the time, he didn't know if any curse was passed down to him, but he knew that it probably would be Nathan – not him – who would break it. He felt like it would be too late for him.

His mind went back to Crystal. It's not that he didn't love her, he just didn't know how to be a boyfriend. He could do the holding hands, the dates, and he sure can do the intimate stuff, but when it came to his partner talking about  _ the future _ or  _ commitment _ , he got scared. There was still so much he wanted to do that the thought of having to take care of another person stressed him out. 

He needed to get his mind off her and thought about taking Nathan to the manor that very night. He could've stolen a few journals by himself, but he didn't know if there would be more, and besides, Nathan would appreciate the adventure.

“Okay, adventure time,” he whispered to himself as he crouched down and held up his flashlight to signal to Nathan.


	2. we've only just begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's 2017 and Sam's another year older. He did everything he thought he missed out on in the fifteen years he was imprisoned, yet somehow he still felt so empty, so lonely. He doesn't know it yet, but he's found the family he's been looking for all along. The real treasure was the friends we made along the way.

**2017**

_Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! La la la la la la!_

Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the card Nathan sent him. There was a cat with glasses on the front with the words “So what if it's another birthday? Don't take life so seriously!”

He appreciated it, though. He couldn't remember the last time he got a birthday card, let alone a cake.

Victor got him a simple chocolate cake, just enough for the two of them. He blew out the candles while Nathan and his wife, Elena, celebrated from a computer screen. They had party hats and party blowers and they made _fwee fwee_ noises from their end.

“Alright, tone it down,” Sam chuckled. “Just another year in paradise, huh?”

“What'd you wish for?” Elena asked.

“World peace.”

“Boo. That's a cliche, try again,” Nathan gave a thumbs down.

“If you ask me, Sam should've asked for a partner so he can let me retire in peace,” Victor joked. “Or maybe a romantic partner.”

Despite Victor’s constant inquiries about a special someone, nothing ever lasted long enough for Sam to seriously introduce. He never would admit it out loud or even to himself, but Victor had become an important father figure to him.

“Hey, I'm getting there, Victor,” Sam narrowed his eyes. “I'm still young.”

“I'm joking, kid,” Victor gave him a pat on the back. “Happy birthday.”

After ending the call with Nathan and Elena, they retired to the porch to smoke and share a bottle of whiskey that Chloe sent over.

_Hey, Sam, here's some alcohol so you can forget how old you're getting._

_Your good friend, Chloe (and Nadine)_

“We got some more leads on the Honjo Masamune,” Victor lit his cigar.

“Does that mean we're going to Japan?”

“It sure does,” Victor nodded. “I'll look for places we can stay at and we can leave in a day or two. 

“Thanks, Victor,” Sam softly said. 

“Nothing I haven't done before. Don't worry.”

“Alright.”

Sam wanted to thank him for taking Nathan in and for being so patient with his stubborn ass. Victor wasn't just a friend and a business partner to them anymore. He was family. However, Sam didn't say anything. Was it weird to thank someone for just being there? 

Victor wasn’t much of a talker and for the most part, it was Sam who would go on and on about random historical facts and theories. The older man would sit back with his cigar and whiskey, listening intently and chuckling. He went to bed just before midnight, leaving Sam to his own thoughts and a half a bottle of whiskey which he brought into the warmth of the living room. 

He wasn’t drunk just yet, and he looked through Victor’s collection of records, impressed with the selection. He decided on a Steve Miller Band record, precariously putting it on the turntable. It's been a while, but he preferred analog technology. Sam had a hard time with new technology, always getting frustrated with what Chloe called streaming services. 

“You can listen to _anything_ , Sam,” she said, holding up her phone. 

“Oh yeah? Can it play Depeche Mode?”

Chloe didn’t say anything, typing away on her phone. Soon _World in my Eyes_ started playing.

“Huh,” Sam simply nodded.

She helped him make a whole playlist, compiling all the songs he asked for, but when he was alone, he didn’t know how to work it. Not to mention, the constant ads pissed him off. No way he was going to pay $9.99 a month to listen to music.

Sam poured himself another drink and settled on the sofa, lighting up another cigarette. Forty-seven. He couldn’t believe it. He went into that infernal place at a mere twenty-eight and even then, he felt twenty-eight was old, but he came out of prison in his forties.

For a while, looking at himself in the mirror was unbearable. He looked so worn out, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, his hair greying out. He didn’t even want to talk about his hairline. 

_Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’ into the future..._

“ _Fuck._ How did I get so old?” Sam downed his whiskey and poured himself another one. 

He never imagined what he’d be doing at this age. Then again, he never imagined he’d spend his entire thirties stuck in prison. He was usually an optimist, but there were times he thought that was it; he was going to grow old in prison and he was going to eventually die there.

Sam was alive somehow and he found the treasure his mother obsessed over until her death. He lived long enough to see his baby brother thrive and be a much better person than him, but the empty feeling after the Libertalia thing persisted. Wasn’t that what he wanted? To find a long lost city and treasure with Nathan? He poured himself another drink, then another.

He stood up to change the record. The Eagles looked good. The room spun a little by his fourth drink and he couldn’t make out what the words in the song were saying anymore. Something about tequila or sunrise, he didn’t know anymore. 

“Who would ever love a worthless thief?” He muttered as he collapsed on the couch.

* * *

Sam’s head was pounding when he woke up the next morning. Victor was in the kitchen blending something.

“Jesus,” Sam groaned. “Can you cut that out? It’s so goddamn loud.”

“You seriously drank through that bottle by yourself last night, Sam?” Victor gave him a cup of something green and oozy. “I see you found your way through my records too.”

Sam looked at the records littered on the floor by the turntable. When did he do that?

“I’ll clean it up,” he muttered.

“Try to sober up,” Victor picked up the empty whiskey bottle. “Nate and Elena are coming over.”

“Huh? What for?”

“Beats me.”

“Fuck,” Sam winced as the ice cold water from the shower hit his body, but he didn’t change it. He took an Advil and hopped in, hoping his headache would subside somehow but at least the cold woke him up. 

Sometimes he was bored when he wasn’t stuck in a jungle or being chased by a bunch of dangerous, armed men. He didn’t know what normalcy was supposed to be and it made him antsy.

He didn’t know how long he stood in there after soaping up and washing his hair. Time was a blur and his mind went from one thing to another. 

The doorbell rang and he heard Nathan and Elena’s voices as Victor greeted them. He sighed and turned off the shower.

“There he is!” Nathan gave him a hug. “You don’t look a day over forty-seven.”

“You little punk,” Sam held him in a choke hold and gave him a noogie, forever grateful for the advantage his height always gave him over his little brother.

“Not the hair!” Nathan broke free.

“Boys, behave!” Elena pulled her husband away before giving Sam a small embrace. “Hey, Sam. Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, little sis,” he smiled. 

“Here, I got this for you,” she handed him a neatly wrapped present.

“Gee, a present for me? Can I open it?” When she nodded, Sam tore it open and inside was a DVD copy of _Treasure Planet_. “Oh, what’s this?”

“Nate said you loved _Treasure Island_ , so I thought I’d get you the more modern retelling of it. It has farting aliens.”

“Farting aliens. Right up my alley,” Sam laughed. “Thanks, ‘Lena. I appreciate it.”

“We’ll watch this later,” Nathan took the DVD from Sam and placed it on the coffee table. “For now, I’m going to take you out for your birthday.”

“Where are we going?” Sam asked as Nathan basically shoved his jacket at him. 

“You’ll see.”

Sam looked at Elena and Victor for any clue or hints, but Victor simply walked away while Elena shrugged. 

“I guess I’m getting kidnapped,” he mumbled as he put his jacket on. 

“You boys take care now!” Victor called out as they left.

* * *

Nathan wanted to watch a movie and to Sam’s massive delight, _It_ was in theatres. He remembered taking him to see the 1990 version, flirting his way with the ticket seller to let his fourteen year old brother into the PG-16 film.

After much persuasion, he got his little brother to get tickets for _It_ instead of _The Greatest Showman_. 

“I hate you so much,” Nathan mumbled as Sam ushered him into the theatre.

After the movie, they went to a diner to eat large piles of pancakes, even having a contest of who can eat their pancake tower the fastest. Sam won, giving Nathan a shit-eating grin as he watched him struggle with the last few bites.

“How _do_ you do that?” Nathan frowned. “I swear, you have the metabolism of a teenage boy.”

“It’s called grit, little brother. Don’t worry, when you’re all grown up, you’ll learn to have it too.”

“Whatever,” Nathan chuckled. “So how’d you like our boys day out?”

“It was nice. Don’t think we’ve properly bonded since the whole Libertalia thing.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that was the best time or place to reconnect, especially with the whole Rafe thing and…”

“The lie,” Sam looked down, guilty. “Hey, I’m really sorry about that.”

“I’m not gonna lie, Sam, that was a jackass move,” Nathan shook his head. “I shouldn’t even forgive you, but you’re my brother. You’ve always had my back.”

“I just really feel bad about getting ‘Lena and Victor into that mess.”

“That’s on me. What kind of idiot lies to his wife?”

“Well,” Sam shrugged. “I guess being a jackass runs in the family, huh?”

“I guess so,” Nathan laughed.

“Hey, at least we aren’t Dad.”

“At least we aren’t Dad.”

Nathan’s phone beeped and he took a minute to reply to whoever texted him. Sam looked around the old diner, taking in the atmosphere and the idle chit chat of other customers. A pretty waitress passed and she sweetly smiled at him.

“Alright, let’s head back,” Nathan paid for the bill. 

* * *

The sun was setting when they got back to Victor’s mid-century style home, but the lights were all turned off inside. Sam suspiciously looked around, taking note of the extra car parked on the driveway that wasn’t his or Victor’s. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked as he got out of the car. “Why are all the lights out? Don’t tell me you planned a surprise party.”

“A surprise party? Don’t be silly, Sam. Sully’s probably napping,” Nathan shrugged.

“Elena too?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, did I tell you she’s pregnant?” Nathan was walking backwards towards the front door. "Pregnant women sleep a lot I heard."

“She’s _what?_ ” 

“Oh yeah, we just found out the other day.”

Sam watched as Nathan fumbled for his copy of the keys and opened the door, where it was dark inside.

“Ladies first,” Nathan held it open.

“I don’t trust any of this,” Sam muttered but went inside anyway. The first thing he saw was a rather large cake sitting on the coffee table, its candles lighting up the room. “Wha…?”

**“Happy birthday!”**

The light turned on and there was a small crowd in the living room that was decked out in balloons and party streamers. Sam didn’t know how to respond as all eyes were on him. 

_Fwee fwee!_ Chloe, Nadine, and Charlie blew on their party blowers and he felt Nathan place a party hat on his head.

“What’s all this?” He looked around.

“A birthday party for you, _duh_ ,” Chloe replied. 

He was a bit overwhelmed, but there was a warm feeling in his chest as he was led to the cake and he blew out all the candles. This time, he actually made a wish.

“That’s not all,” Elena gestured to him and he followed her to the backyard, where a trampoline stood.

“No fucking way,” Sam laughed. “A trampoline?”

“Nate wanted it too,” she shrugged. “He wouldn’t shut up about it on the plane back from Madagascar.”

“You’re the best sister-in-law,” he nudged her. “Congrats on the kid, by the way.”

“He already told you?” Her jaw dropped. “Don’t tell anyone else, I’m waiting for the right time.”

“I promise,” Sam crossed his heart.

The dining table was laid out with piles of food. Nathan had called in all the guests so that they could all find a seat with Sam sitting at the head of the table. 

“You really went all out, huh?” He leaned over to Nathan, whose mouth was full of moussaka.

“The dinner was what I had in mind,” Nathan downed his drink. “Elena wanted to throw you a surprise party and Sully agreed.”

Sam laughed. “Thanks. I like this.”

“It’s the best I can do after all you’ve done for me growing up.”

“I’ll make it up to you and Elena, I promise.”

Nathan shook his head. “It’s just a party, Sam. Relax. Have fun.”

After dinner, they sat around the living room, where they all passed Sam presents. Nathan gave him a Nerf gun, from Victor a box of Cuban cigars, from Chloe some climbing rope, from Nadine a pack of underwear, and from Charlie [the Ice Genie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rA1TiMWl9EY&ab_channel=AllstarInnovations) (he insisted they were practical because he saw an infomercial of it).

Music blared, drinks flowed, and at some point, a joint was being passed around (Nathan and Elena abstained, preferring to drink juice together and retire early for the night). For that moment, Sam let go of his anxieties of being a year older. He was in a safe, comfortable place that he knew would be constant, with people who were constant. 

For the first time, he felt like he had a family again. When everyone had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, Sam took one of his mother’s unfinished journals and sat on the roof. With a cigarette in one hand, he wrote in the journal, deciding to continue living for her.

_We must go on, because we can’t turn back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam watched Treasure Planet on his own the next night and he loved it.


End file.
